


late nights and early sunsets (vampires will never hurt you but zombies will eat your brains)

by akamine_chan



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Apocalypse, Community: anon_lovefest, Gen, Podfic Available, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-24 22:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank's wired and restless; he isn't sleeping well, no one is, and he makes up the difference in caffeine, nicotine and sugar. Usually that's a bad idea, guaranteed to bounce him onto someone's shit list, but right now, he doesn't fucking care. He's doing whatever it takes to get through the endless days and nights without going crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	late nights and early sunsets (vampires will never hurt you but zombies will eat your brains)

**Author's Note:**

> Written non-anonymously for the LJ community anon_lovefest
> 
> Unbeta'd.
> 
> Warning: non-cracky zombie apocalypse, with all that entails (God, almost made a bad joke right there). Nothing graphic, but still. Be warned.
> 
> Title partly from _Early Sunsets Over Monroeville_ and partly from _Vampires Will Never Hurt You_ by My Chemical Romance
> 
> Available as an awesome [podfic](http://reena-jenkins.livejournal.com/122374.html#cutid5) by reenajenkins! \o/

The day is overcast.

Frank's wired and restless; he isn't sleeping well, no one is, and he makes up the difference in caffeine, nicotine and sugar. Usually that's a bad idea, guaranteed to bounce him onto someone's shit list, but right now, he doesn't fucking care. He's doing whatever it takes to get through the endless days and nights without going crazy.

He thinks about bugging Bob, but Bob's way of dealing with the stress and tension is to sleep, hibernating in his bunk like a Bearbert. And much like a bear, he's prone swiping at anyone who disturbs him. In the end, Frank decides it's not worth it. Instead, he walks the venue grounds, trying to keep himself distracted, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched, a clear _don't fuck with me_.

Everyone's wound up: the bands, the crew, the organizers. Even the local staff is distracted and worried. The news coming out of California is bad and getting worse as the isolated pockets of neorabies stop being so isolated. The way phrases like _acute encephalitis_ , _Negri bodies_ , and _the Milwaukee protocol_ are sneaking into everyday language is an indication of how this new disease has moved to the forefront of everyone's mind.

He calls his mom every day; he's not the only one keeping in close touch. They're all calling their families, touching base, trying to pretend that everything's normal, that everything will be all right in the end.

Frank's not so sure about that, so when his mom mentions joining some of their family at a vacation home in upstate New York, he urges her to go. If things get bad, he wants her the fuck out of the city and somewhere safe. Safer.

"I don't know, Frankie. Leaving seems like I'm admitting that something's wrong." Her voice is steady, but he can feel the undercurrents of uncertainty.

"Mom. Something _is_ wrong." He tucks the phone between shoulder and ear and lights a cigarette awkwardly. The nicotine soothes his nerves. "I'd feel better knowing you're out of Jersey."

"I'll think about it, baby." There's a long pause, full of unsaid things. "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Mom. Love you."

"Love you, too, Frankie," she says softly and hangs up.

He listens to the dial tone for a long time, the sound fading into the white noise in his head.

* * *

Frank looks out at the crowd from side stage, probably close to four thousand people dressed mostly in band shirts and dirty jeans. There's something wrong, he can sense it in the air, a metallic-tasting off-rhythm buzz that rasps across his nerves. Adding to his uneasiness is the sour-sharp tang of fear hanging like a fog.

Frank has never seen a crowd like this before and it's giving him a headache. The tension out there is like a summer storm ready to break, when the temperatures climb and the skies cloud up and the lightning is so close you can _smell_ it, but the storm just builds, and builds, and builds until every hair on your body is standing up and you have to bite your lip to keep from screaming...

There's a touch on his shoulder and he jumps a little, relaxing when he realizes it's Ray.

"Fucked up crowd, huh?" Ray comments, and Frank can only shrug in response. Yeah, it's a fucked up crowd, but it's only reflecting what everyone's feeling.

"Talked to my mom," Frank offers.

"How's she doing?" Ray starts massaging Frank's shoulders and it feels _so_ fucking good. He lets his head droop forward.

"She's scared." Swallowing hard, Frank admits, "I'm scared."

Ray squeezes the back of Frank's neck. "We all are, Frankie." He pulls Frank in close for a hard hug. "We're all fucking scared."

It shouldn't make him feel better, but somehow, it does. He goes back to watching the crowd. Ray leaves him alone after a while.

* * *

Eventually, Mikey joins him, bringing him a bottle of cold water. "You okay?"

He doesn't have the energy to say much, so he just shakes his head. He's so fucking tired, between the lack of sleep and this horrible feeling of _something_ about to happen, the tension winding tight and tighter. "You?"

"I'll live," Mikey shrugs. "Gee's on the phone with Mom and Dad." He sits down next to Frank and bumps shoulders. "Talking about canceling the tour until things settle down. Too many of us worried about family and friends back home."

"Yeah." Frank lights another cigarette. Maybe that would be best. Distracted, he barely grumbles when Mikey steals both his cigarette and his water. "Motherfucker."

"Whatever." Mikey throws a gangly arm around his shoulders. "It's gonna be okay, Frankie."

"Swear?" Mikey's never lied to him, ever. And he wants to believe, so badly.

"Double pinky swear."

Frank lets himself smile.

* * *

Frank zones out a little, sinking into the music, feeling it drive away the worries. Gerard joins them and sits on the other side of Frank, leaning against him. He smells pretty rank and normally Frank would bitch, but right now, he doesn't care. He feels safe wedged between the Way brothers.

There's a sudden shift in the air and Frank shivers, skin crawling. He can hear screaming, but not the normal enthusiastic screaming of fans singing along with the songs. This is different. This is...hysteria and fear and he's on his feet, looking out at the crowd.

At the distant edge of the audience, he sees a disturbance, a swirl of bodies moving ponderously, gaping mouths stained red, hands like claws. He watches in disbelief as a young girl is grabbed and bitten, empty eyes staring into her terrified face. He can't stop looking at the blood.

"Oh, f—fuck," Mikey stutters in shock. "Christ, I didn't think—"

Frank didn't think, either. He feels a tug on his arm and he tries to shrug it off, horrified at what's happening.

"Frank, Mikey." Gerard's voice is sharp and commanding and Frank can't help but turn to him in surprise. "Listen to me. Are you fucking listening?" Gerard waits until he and Mikey nod. "Grab who you can and get back to the bus. As fast as you can." Frank stands there, uncomprehending. What the fuck is Gerard— "Now," Gerard barks, and Frank _moves_.

He finds and grabs Ray, clings to him, unwilling to let go for even a second as they make their way through the crowds of crew, techs, and staff. They run across Cortez and another tech; Matt keeps trying to ask questions but the panicked shrieking behind them shuts him up pretty quickly. Frank continues pulling Ray forward, even though he knows that Ray wants to go back, to help if he can. So Frank doesn't stop holding on, practically dragging him away, hand tight around Ray's wrist. He's probably leaving bruises.

They jog across the asphalt, dodging the people who are rushing _toward_ the venue. Frank wants to yell at them, warn them somehow, but he doesn't have the breath to do anything but pant and keep Ray moving forward. They get to the buses and he shoves Ray up the stairs. Cortez and the other tech board the bus meekly enough. They don't have Ray's stupid desire to help everyone, thank fuck.

He can hear Gerard, speaking loudly and calmly. He can't make out the words, but it's the tone that's important, anyway. It's reassuring.

He stands on the bottom step, looking back at the venue. Something's burning; he can see a black cloud of smoke drifting up and there's almost a continues roar of voices, a solid wall of screams and cries. He doesn't look too closely at the people staggering away from the venue, tries not to see the blood and—

"Frankie, get the fuck in here."

He looks at Gerard and nods, climbing up the stairs as the door closes shut behind him.

-fin-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] late nights and early sunsets (vampires will never hurt you but zombies will eat your brains)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/758442) by [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




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